


Lighter steps remembered still

by zinjadu



Series: Wed to Blight [47]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Con Artists, F/M, Fort Drakon (Dragon Age), Fun, Serious Alistair, Silly Warden, The Warden is still a teenager, prison break - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-07 16:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20979158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: Caitwyn Tabris wakes up and finds herself in Fort Drakon, and she couldn't be happier.After all, what thief and con-artist doesn't want to test themselves against the inescapable prison in the middle of Denerim?  The question of how to get out with Alistair is another story.Note:This story is fully drafted!  Weekly updates on Sunday until the end.  Many thanks for reading, leaving kudos, and comments.  <3  Also, next week might post wonky as I'm over seas, but it will be there.  Promise.





	Lighter steps remembered still

Caitwyn woke up with an aching head, not sure why it had been necessary for Ser Cauthrien to blindfold her and then backhand her. Perhaps the other woman underestimated the strength of her jaw. Then she realized how cold she was and that she could feel the stone underneath her.

Naked, or nearly so. They had stripped her of all her armor and weapons as a matter of course and left her in her underthings. That was no surprise, but they hadn’t even given her a prisoner’s tunic? Blinking up at the ceiling, she breathed in and heard one of the better sounds in the world.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Alistair’s voice. Propping herself up on one arm, she ran a hand over her face, checking for tender spots. Everything seemed in working order, and then she took further notice of her surroundings. A fairly standard cell, with a very solid door, lovely. And Alistair had positioned himself between her and the gazes of the jailors. Under any kind of normal circumstances, she would have been trying to hide, to make sure no one saw her like this. But this, this was a unique opportunity. Caitwyn flexed her deft fingers in anticipation of getting to break out of, what appeared to be, yes, Fort Drakon.

“I am.” She rocked back and forth on her bare feet, running through her options as she discretely monitored the guard rotation.

“Not that I routinely second guess you, love, but why did you surrender at Howe’s estate?” Alistair asked, sounding just a little bit upset at the edges. She glanced up at him, and was moderately pleased he got the same undressing treatment. At least for the visual it afforded her.

“We had two non-combatants with us, and I wasn’t about to give away who we were freeing. Now we can spring her on Loghain, and she’s on our side. Kind of, well, good enough for me.” He opened his mouth to object, but then followed her line of thought. Anora on the throne meant him  _ not _ on the throne and with his head intact.

“Alright,” he drawled, conceding the point for now. They still might have a discussion about it, but there were more pressing matters in hand. “But look, we’re still locked in the most secure place in all of Denerim. I know you used to do, what’d you call it? Second-story work, but, well,  _ I  _ didn’t.”

“You’ve never seen me really at work, the confidence jobs,” she said, a proud grin flashing across her face. Yes, she thought she had the rotation pattern now. Her mother had trained her well, pickpocketing and burglary both, but the real gem had been their confidence jobs. It would take all her skills to get them out, and it would also be a welcome distraction from everything she had felt going through  _ that  _ estate again. Going through the room where Shianni had been—wrenching her mind back to the present, she realized Alistair was watching her dubiously.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” He regarded her with narrowed, suspicious eyes. She shot him a look of wide-eyed innocence which he didn’t buy for a second.

“Nooooo, yes, just a little. Now, see that guard?” Discreetly, she pointed out the guard that had looked at her the most. Alistair turned his head, and she spoke quickly, “Don’t look directly at him, just out the corner of your eye. Now, see him. He’s been eyeing me more than anyone else. Perfect mark. When he opens the door, be ready.”

“And why would he open the door?” Alistair asked dryly. Caitwyn let her lips fall apart just so and her eyebrows arch as if she were afraid.

“Why, because I’m so scared, I’m not sure the man I’m in here with won’t leave me alone, won’t he save me?” The high quaver she added to her voice put just the right touch on the picture of waifish and afraid.

“That’s deeply disturbing, never do that at me ever again.” His tone dipped low in an attempt to be stern, but it only made her smile.

“Oh, Alistair, I do love you.” She felt it, that love, bubbling up in her chest, and with it came a kind of freedom. Probably something to do with the anticipatory excitement of getting to break out of the most secure prison in Ferelden.

“Hey, that’s the first time you said that while looking directly at me,” he said, smiling at her, slow and sweet. Her quick grin turned into a frown that some might call a pout.

“Is not,” she protested.

“Is so. And I love you, too,” he told her softly, sincerely as he held her gaze. Deciding to not start an argument here, she breathed deep and let it go. 

“Alright, with that out of the way,” she said, sidestepping the issue for now. They could always talk about it later, and he would have to admit he was wrong. She hadn’t had a problem with that. It was ridiculous. Turning on her heel, she ran a hand through her hair, mussing up her short, dark curls. Then she altered her posture, curling in a little, making herself look even smaller, more vulnerable, someone who looked like they needed saving. 

She ignored Alistair’s disbelieving snort behind her.

“Ser? Ser?” The guard turned at the sound of her call, and he stepped closer. Since he didn’t tell her to shut up right away, she put on an expression of helpless distress. “Oh please, ser, I know I shouldn’t expect help, but please, could you please move me into another cell.”

“He been bothering you?” The guard was young, but he lowered his voice to sound older, gruffer. Perfect mark. She nodded, blinking quickly to make her eyes shine as though she were about to cry. The guard shot Alistair a particularly nasty look, but Caitwyn didn’t risk a glance back to see what Alistair was doing. Then the guard nodded, as if decided, and unslung his club.

“Right you, stay back, gonna move her, and you’re to behave yourself, or you’ll get a taste of this,” he threatened, brandishing his club. Caitwyn pressed herself to the bars of the cell, giving the man an eyeful, from which he quickly looked away. She’d give him that much credit at least. With his other hand, the guard lifted the keys from his belt and unlocked the door, stepping just inside the cell. 

And Caitwyn launched herself off the cell bars and kicked him right between his legs.

Without missing a beat, Alistair rushed the other man, ducking underneath a wild, pained swing of the club, and grabbing the other man’s arm, held it out like a bar and dislocated his shoulder, sending the club skittering along the stone floor. Then, grabbing the man’s armor at the shoulders, Alistair slammed the guard head first into the bars, the metal of the man’s helm ringing. Unable to handle the shock, the guard slumped unconscious in Alistair’s grip. Gracefully, Caitwyn swept the keys up from the floor where they had been dropped and spun them around one finger, her grin back in full force.

“You are very pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” The spring in her step was answer enough to his question. Alistair followed her out of the cell, and she locked it behind them. The poor guard was probably going to get fired, but at least he’d be alive. “So we’re out of the cell, but we are still naked, and as much as I enjoy the view, probably going to make escaping difficult.”

Caitwyn traipsed to the locked chest set against the far wall. Unlocking it, she found their gear, and she gestured expansively. “I think that addresses your concern.” 

He did not comment as they quickly put on their armor. She worked her shoulders letting the leather settle before pressing her ear to the door leading out of the cells. It sounded like the kennel, and she bit out a curse. Once, she would have had no problem killing the dogs, but since having a dog of her own, she had only been able to do so when in immediate danger. Worse, she knew she couldn’t bribe a Mabari, or sneak past one nearly as easily as a human. They were loyal and sharp.

“Dogs in the next room. One trainer, I think,” she told him, and he nodded. Through the door, she was proven right, and they dealt with the man and the two dogs. Trying not to get too upset about that, she trotted ahead to get a sense of what lay beyond the next door. Fighting her way out was  _ not _ what she wanted. It would merely prove people right, that the Wardens were out for blood. 

She wouldn’t give anyone that kind of satisfaction. 

No guard was posted on the other side of the door, or so she reasoned by the lack of idle chit-chat, and she slipped through. Seeing the way was clear, she waved Alistair along behind her. Then she saw something interesting: an open door to the right. Curious, she poked her head and saw it was the armory.

With stands of armor.

Guard armor.

Hefting it she thought she might be able to find something that fit her, and she grinned at Alistair. He glanced to her, to the armor, then back, and he sighed.

“Come on,” she exhorted. “No bloodshed this way. Well, less bloodshed.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Alistair grumbled and muttered to himself. He’d learned to mumble so even she couldn’t make out what he was saying, which she thought was rather unfair of him. With a sigh, he shrugged expansively. “Fine, know better than to argue the point now that we’ve come this far. Just, please, don’t get carried away.” 

“I don’t get carried away.

“No, not ever. Not you. Now,” he said, pondering the armor on the next stand over, “that looks like it’ll fit me. Let’s be quick.”

It was the matter of a few moments to don their disguises. As they left the armory, Caitwyn kept her ears perked for more information. They needed to get out, and she doubted that guards came and went without check-ins and the like. Not to mention the heightened security that had to be in place due to Loghain’s paranoia. Then she heard a man shouting, complaining loudly about the state of the enlisted men

“That’s promising,” she whispered.

“Are you sure? Seems like the commander would notice we, and by we I mean  _ you _ , aren’t a normal guard recruit.”

“Commanders like that see all recruits as the same: disappointing. The details about them as people don’t matter.”

“Good point,” he agreed. In their borrowed armor, they walked down the hallway toward the irate, entitled shouting. They opened the door, and the colonel broke off at their appearance.

“What’s this? Ah! You must be the new recruits we were getting,” he said in a companionable enough tone, then like officers everywhere, bit out the rest. “You’re late. The rest of your patrol is getting themselves ready in the storage room. Find them, and get yourselves ready for inspection.” Without missing a beat, Caitwyn snapped off a salute, Alistair following her lead moments behind before they turned on their heels and headed for the room at the end of the hallway.

Once there it was easy enough to spot the new recruits. Not the brightest lot, even going so far as to  _ write down _ the password. Her fingers itched, knowing it would be easy enough to do a little stumble and grab. She hated to rely on the stumble, the crutch of the lesser pickpocket, but they weren’t the type to notice much beyond  _ a girl! _ she figured. Then she had second thoughts. Stealing the password would get them in trouble, and there was nothing inherently bad about these two men. They were likely just men who needed a job and thought being a guardsman sounded like an honest profession. 

Caitwyn knew better considering the number of guardsmen on the take that she had known as a youth, but most probably started out earnest in their intentions.

Then she had another idea.

“Oh no, no, no, just steal the password,” Alistair hissed as he caught the look in her eye and the shift in her stance. “We are not helping them.”

“But look at them. They’re so pathetic.”

“How am I suddenly the reasonable one in this situation? I thought I was the funny one,” he said dryly, then made a low, dismissive gesture. “Fine. Since you’re going to do it anyway, no point in arguing with you.”

“Admit it, you’re having fun, too.” It took everything she had not to bounce on her toes. The thrill of the con, the rush of being somewhere she shouldn’t, pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes, nothing like it. She had missed this. It was simple. In a way, it was honest, at least in aim if not in practice. And she was  _ good _ at this.

“I don’t have to admit to anything.” He was evading, but the corners of his lips turned up, and a grin flashed across her face. Then it was a matter of convincing the two hapless recruits that she and Alistair were sent to collect them, a little creative bribery with the quartermaster, and then they were back in front of the commander.

“So, you think you’re ready to go on your first patrol mission, do you?” the colonel asked, snide officer tone firmly intact and at full force. There was only one answer this type liked to hear.

“Yes, ser!” Caitwyn declared, projecting for all she was worth, like a good little soldier.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he said, sounding marginally pleased. Though Caitwyn had the sense he wasn’t done yet.

“You there!” The colonel shifted his focus, one of the recruits.

“Yes, ser!” the recruit replied, his nerves showing.

“Stand up straight! You’re a soldier in the King’s Army, and the King’s own men don’t slouch!” The recruit stood up straight, but the colonel had already moved on to the other one. “And you!”

“Yes, ser!” the other recruit answered.

“Stop fidgeting. You can fidget on your own time,” the colonel ordered, and Caitwyn started to wonder how in Andraste’s name this army was the same one that had been hounding them for nearly a year now. Granted, if this man was a typical example of their officers, it made sense why they had been able to evade Loghain’s troops for so long. Bogged down in the fussy details of the army without looking up to see anything of importance.

Like the female elf in guard’s clothing right in front of him.

“You there, blondie,” the colonel said, at last turning his gaze to Alistair.

“Yes, ser?” Alistair’s voice almost cracked as the colonel singled him out. A frantic  _ oh no oh no oh no _ , rushed through her mind. She hadn’t prepared him for this. She’d been having too much fun with the whole charade and lost focus. Cursing herself for an idiot, she braced for having to fight their way out.

“What’s the one thing a soldier can’t do without?” the colonel asked. Alistair glanced at her briefly, and she saw the flustered panic.

“What do I tell him?” he asked in low, tight whisper, just at the edge of her hearing. Thankfully, just quiet enough that humans couldn’t hear. He’d gotten very, very good at knowing what she could hear without anyone save Zevran being able to hear him. Even then, Zevran was often too far away to get a clear idea.

“Discipline,” she replied quickly, while the colonel’s pacing faced him away from them, and she hoped that his helm would block the sound.

“Discipline, ser!” Alistair replied quickly, standing at perfect attention. The colonel turned on his heel, his eyes narrowed at them all.

“Hmph. You’re not as dumb as you look. See to it you all act like soldiers of Ferelden out there. I expect the lot of you back here by sunup. Now get out of here. And Maker watch over you.” 

The colonel dismissed them all with a sharp gesture. Saluting, they left the office, Caitwyn falling behind the two other recruits while Alistair kept pace with her. She let them give the password at each checkpoint, and not a single person stopped them demanding to inspect exactly who was leaving the Fort. If they could just keep this up, if they could just keep going before anyone noticed that the cells were awkwardly empty, they could escape.

At the final door, she glanced up at Alistair, who gave her a wild eyed look, like he couldn’t believe they’d gotten this far. 

She offered him a cheeky smile, as if to scold him for doubting her in the slightest. He rolled his eyes, but by then they were out the door. She paused a moment to crane her neck back, taking in the imposing view of Fort Drakon as it reared up to dominate the Denerim skyline. She had used that tower as a landmark all her childhood as she’d run barefoot through the streets, then later as a young woman running across rooftops behind her mother. And now she had broken out of the most secure prison in all of Ferelden.

Without anyone the wiser.

“We’ve got the Markets for our first patrol,” one of the recruits said.

“Teams of two, right? Standard beat patrol,” Caitwyn replied, trotting to keep up with the taller men. She knew that rotation from her childhood, watching to make sure she could sneak in and steal some fresh fruit for Soris and Shianni, a rare treat from a different time.

“Yup. Wow, you’ve got your stuff down,” the other said, and Caitwyn recognized the look. Alistair, finally finding something about this whole thing funny, sniggered.

“She don’t want anything to do with you, shithead,” the first recruit said. “Don’t mind him. We’re all guards here, that’s the important thing.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Alistair interjected, “see you out there.” They all nodded at each other and parted ways. Caitwyn kept her eye on the two guardsmen as they broke off for their patrol pattern, then once they were around the corner, she and Alistair headed right for Eamon’s estate. Keeping a steady pace, they gained the courtyard easily enough, only to be confronted with some irate Redcliffe men drawing steel on them.

She and Alistair looked at each other, and that did it. They couldn’t contain themselves any longer, and both promptly broke out in gales of laughter. 

“The looks on your faces!” Alistair said, removing his helm, and the men lowered their swords. Caitwyn did the same, and upon the guards recognizing them both, weapons were put away and the men sighed audibly.

“Sorry, shouldn’t laugh, very unprofessional, but,” Caitwyn tried to say, but the laughter swept her away again. It was too ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. So perfectly mad that there was no point in keeping herself under control. And it felt  _ good _ to let go, just a little, after everything that had happened. That was still happening.

“Sers, please,” one of the men said, a guard captain, Talor was his name, Caitwyn thought. “If you would get inside before someone notices this.”

“What’s all this then?” The arl strode out of his estate and took in the scene before him. For a moment no one said a word, then Caitwyn heard one of the guards snigger, likely filling in the blanks due to the uniforms she and Alistair still wore. The laughter swept through the whole courtyard, and Caitwyn got caught up in it all over again. She doubled over, one hand on Alistair’s arm to keep her from pitching into the dirt, and Alistair had to lean against the well to keep himself upright.

“Whatever is going on, it cannot be that amusing!” Arl Eamon declared.

Unfortunately, that statement just made them laugh all the harder.

“Arl Eamon, I can explain,” Alistair began, but his laughter stoppered his words. It was like the whole moment had been crafted as a release valve for the pressure they were under, and it wouldn’t stop until the pressure was all drained away.

“Once you have yourself under control, I expect,” the old noble noted dryly, and Caitwyn noticed a glint of amusement there.

“Yes, my lord,” Caitwyn and Alistair chimed together, and with a wave, the nobleman returned to his estate, leaving the two Wardens giggling together like the carefree children they had never been.


End file.
